


The thing that holds firmly and bears the weight, breaking the fall

by saderaladon



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Dirty Talk About Feces, Double Anal Penetration, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Foot Fetish, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Ginger Fish gets ruined, Heterosexual Sex, John 5 is not shy to ask, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Smoking, Threesome - M/M/M, Tim Skold does what people ask of him, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, good communication, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 07:10:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19127116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saderaladon/pseuds/saderaladon
Summary: People fuck in this text.





	The thing that holds firmly and bears the weight, breaking the fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feistycadavers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feistycadavers/gifts).



> Hello. 
> 
> I consulted the cosmos again and it bestowed this thing upon me.  
> Feistycadavers, thank you for wanting things from me. :) This one wouldn't have been possible without you.
> 
> Warnings!
> 
> This is a sequel to the three previous Manson fics of mine. You might try reading this one without first going through those, but I cannot guarantee you won't be confused as fuck. 
> 
> This text consists of sex (some of which one is not to try at home), talking (some of which mentions human feces, so beware) and references.  
> That's it. 
> 
> Enjoy, if you can. 
> 
>  
> 
> English is not my native language.  
> Everything here belongs to the cosmic rays.  
> The Swedish words used in the text are (in order of appearance): asshole, cunt, queer, horny.

*****

Tim's phone starts ringing when he finally pours some water in his mouth. He jumps and almost drops it, and then it takes him forever to answer it, because his hands are all wet and slippery.

"Hey," he says, putting it on speaker. "Sorry, I just came from a run."

"No problem," John says, and Tim hears a string being pulled in the background.

"What's up? Are you playing?"

"Yeah. I need support."

Tim snorts and downs another glass of water, pulling off his T-shirt.

"What is it now? Are you afraid to go to an ophthalmologist or something?"

"Fuck off," John says and laughs. "I need you to write a bass line for me. For support, you know."

"Oh," Tim says and looks at his watch. "Is it urgent?"

"Of course it is urgent. Don't start again. Get out of that stinking house and come here."

"I need a shower first," Tim says. "Also, I don't want to play. We're going to a festival in a month. I am on fucking vacation now."

"Tim."

"Bribe me."

John giggles.

"You can fuck me afterwards."

"I know I can fuck you afterwards. That's a given."

John does something unpleasant to his strings.

"Tim."

"Nope. Give me something and then I'll come."

"Okay. Okay, you heartless shark," John says, putting on an angry voice. "I'll tell you something Ginger told me."

"Oh," Tim smirks. "Is it something juicy? Something I can hold over him?"

"God, you're horrible. Yes. Juicy. Hot. Now get out of your stupid house and come here. Forget the shower."

"I kinda stink."

"You do, yes."

"Alright, you whiny jerk. Be there as soon as I can. Need anything?"

"Donno. Ice-cream?"

 

Tim gets dragged into the room the very second he is through the door. They play for two hours straight, John demanding to show him his famous composition skills and being insufferable and very talented at the same time.

"Done?" Tim asks, finally standing up and putting his bass guitar away.

"Thank you," John says and smiles at him. "Oh fuck, we forgot to put ice-cream in the fridge."

"I didn't forget anything. I was subjected to forced labour."

John pushes him away from the couch, and they both giggle. They go to the kitchen and put the bag full of ice-cream water into the freezer.

"Anything else you might have forgotten?" Tim asks, looking at John.

John shrugs with a coy smile.

"How fucking horny are you?" he asks.

"Take a guess," Tim says, squinting at him. "Fucking Ginger and his fucking relatives he has to visit. Fucking _distant_ relatives. God, I miss morning erections so much."

"You can always come to mine, you know," John says, laughing.

"I miss morning erections, not morning bluegrass."

"Okay, okay," John says and grabs at his arm. "Come on. Let's fuck. You can do bad things to me."

 

They start by John sinking onto the floor in the middle of the room and sucking him off, looking up at him and letting him slap his face lightly a couple of times. Then John starts fidgeting and Tim asks what's up.

"I want you inside," John says, giving him a guilty smile.

Tim eyes him from above, looking at his pretty face, at his lips he keeps licking.

"Yeah, I get it," Tim says with a sigh and helps him up. "Come on. Hands and knees?"

Of course, it is hands and knees.

Not that Tim minds.

John pushes back to meet him and after a minute Tim notices that the way he moves is slightly off. It is not something they usually do together, but it is definitely something he's seen.

"Hey," he says, chuckling and pulling John's hair. "How dare you fucking cheat on me with my cock up your pitiful hole?"

John falters in rocking his hips and giggles.

"Fuck off," he says, trying to wriggle out of his grip. "It is not cheating if you know who I am thinking about. It is not very convincing anyway. Yours is like two times smaller."

"You sly fuck," Tim says and pulls him up. John slides deeper onto his cock and moans. "Alright. I get it. Let me tell you something then."

He licks John's neck and then narrates his first doggy style fuck with Ginger to him, John gasping and whining and trying to kiss him, and then coming somewhat suddenly when Tim is talking about Ginger yanking his hands up, pushing his ass into him and moaning in a low voice. Tim is not quite there yet and starts wondering what to do about it, but John hurries out that he can go on, if it is not for long. _Magic_ , Tim thinks and fucks him a little more, holding him tight in his arms, until he comes into him, gritting his teeth.

They both giggle afterwards, Tim pulling John up to lie on his shoulder, John hugging him for two seconds and then running his fingers over body parts Tim has never thought he even had. When he starts repeating the sequence with his mouth Tim pushes him away and tells him to go suck on his ice-cream.

Which John does, putting the ugly monster into a bowl, poking it with his fingers, licking them with a blissful face and being disgusting and cute at the same time. Tim goes to smoke by the window.

"By the way, have you seen the barbecue pictures Ginj sent yesterday?" John asks, slurring his words, his thumb deep in his mouth.

"Nope," Tim says, puffing out the smoke.

"Hm," John says, swinging his feet. "Doesn't he send you pictures?"

"Fuck, I can bet he does," Tim says. "I mark his stupid email as spam when he goes away. So..."

John laughs like mad.

"God, you're such a shit."

"What? I know there isn't anything worth my attention in there. I know what his dumb face looks like. And I don't want to know what the dumb faces of his relatives look like. Of his _distant_ fucking relatives. Jesus. And if by some chance he sends something better than that... Well, then I have you to tell me, because you'll definitely get it too."

John throws a sock at him. Tim catches it, puts out his cigarette and comes back to bed.

"Seriously, am I wrong? Are there some morning erection shots I need to know about?"

John laughs and licks the bowl.

"Of course not," he says. "It's Ginger."

"Exactly," Tim says and puts his fingers through John's hair. "At least you're sensible enough to actually send me quality content when you're gone."

There is a bit of physical altercation after that.

"Are you gonna jerk off your guitar again?" Tim asks, once the rebellion is subdued.

"No," John says, rolling onto his stomach again. "I'm tired. My back hurts. Don't know what's wrong with it."

"Oh," Tim says, smirking. "It seems that old age finally caught up with you too. Give it a few more years and you'll understand my lack of passion for early afternoon composition exercises."

"Fuck off," John says, and they push each other for a few more minutes.

"Come on," Tim says, straddling John's thighs from behind. "I'll give you a back rub. You're gonna love it. Gonna whine and quiver and everything."

His prediction comes out true one hundred percent, but with some nice additions. John whines and quivers under his hands, and what starts as a back rub ends up being a whole virtuoso rub and then not even that, then it is just Tim writing Swedish profanities on John's skin with his fingers and John being a molten pile of limbs.

"Hey," John says, turning his highly content face to look at him. "I've been thinking..."

"Yeah?" Tim says, writing _rövhål_ on his butt.

"That fancy friend of yours, Jules. I kinda want to meet her again," John says, a dreamy smile on his lips.

Tim chuckles.

"What? Liked that pussy more than ice-cream?"

John laughs.

"I can give you her number. She'll be glad to see you," Tim says, writing _fitta_ on John's lower back.

"Oh God, no," John says, exhaling loudly. "I'm not meeting her alone. She's gonna talk about shooting arrows at me again. I'm gonna freak out."

Tim laughs.

"She just thinks you're pretty. Like a painting."

"Whatever. I need your support."

"Of course you do," Tim says, running his finger down John's spine.

"Fuck off," John says and shivers.

"Alright, alright. We can meet her together, I don't mind," Tim says and repeats what he's just done.

"I want Ginger there too," John adds and flips over.

"Greedy bastard," Tim says with a grin.

"I wanna eat her out while he licks her feet," John says, that dreamy smile playing on his lips again. "I think she's gonna love it. And you're just gonna sit there and suffer, you know. Watching us and not getting any."

Tim laughs and John sits up.

"You sure love it, when I just sit there stiff," Tim says, getting up to have another cigarette.

"Not really," John says. Tim turns around and raises an eyebrow. "I actually love it when you come in my mouth and when you fuck me hard. But you love being stiff. You get off on being denied things. So I do it."

"Oh," Tim says, stands there for a second, then chuckles and goes to smoke by the window.

"Yeah," John says. "That's what support means."

Tim throws a sock at him.

"Well, it is also kinda hot," John adds, dodging the sock. "You know what I hate though?"

"Oh, please, do tell," Tim says, puffing out a circle of smoke and smiling. "I'm dying to know."

"Your gaping fucking hole that you shove both of our cocks in," John says and sticks his tongue out at him.

Tim laughs.

"What, still upset you can't do it too?"

"No," John says. "Why would I be upset?"

"Because it is a challenge," Tim says and smirks at him.

John laughs too and comes to stand next to him.

"Whatever," he says. "Hey, are you hungry? I'm starving here. Can you cook something?"

"Nope," Tim says. "I am tired of conducting thorough investigations in your kitchen looking for damn salt. It is like the fucking Bermuda Triangle in there."

"Fuck you," John says.

"We'll just order something, okay?" Tim says, puts out his cigarette and pats John's cheek.

 

They order Thai and watch a movie, cuddling in bed, John scraping Tim's shaved scalp with his fingers.

"Are you staying the night?" he asks, when the movie is over.

"Sure," Tim says.

They have a bit of a fight in the bathroom, John trying to force Tim to brush his teeth, Tim saying that predators don't need to do that, both of them splashing each other with water.

John presses his back into Tim, takes his hand and pulls his arm around his own shoulders. Tim kisses the back of his neck.

He starts to doze off.

"Hey," John says suddenly. "Forgot to tell you that Ginger thing."

Tim chuckles.

"Thank you for reminding me of that," he says. "So what did he tell you?"

John turns around in his arms, their heads now on the same pillow. Tim feels his breath on his face.

"He was at mine a couple of weeks ago, and we were in bed, chatting about you, you know..."

"Yeah, I know. Like I am your personal porn actor," Tim says and pulls John's nose with his fingers.

"Fuck off," John says and pushes his hand away. "Anyway, he told me it'd gotten so much easier for him to relax... With his shit thing, I mean. Like, the talk is not so necessary now."

"Oh," Tim says and smiles. "Finally. So what, now you do it?"

"Oh, no," John says and shakes his head on the pillow. "He meant it is easier for him with you. Not with me. We tried a couple of times. Both freaked the fuck out."

"Hm," Tim says. "Well..."

"But that's not what I wanted to tell you."

"Yeah, I remember something about it being juicy."

John shifts even closer to him.

"Well, I was touching him, and he said it is getting better with the shit talk, like he doesn't need it as much, but he kind of wants you to do it anyway. Makes him hot."

"Oh," Tim says.

"But now I don't know if it is juicy. You sounded relieved when I told you."

Tim lets out a breath.

"I am fucking relieved he relaxed. I fucking hate it that he was ashamed of it. Fuck. Like even if he were actually shitting himself every time we did it, I wouldn't want him to be disgusted with himself because of that."

"Oh," John says. "That's... That's kinda sweet."

"Fuck off," Tim says. "Shame sucks. And by the way, it is fucking juicy. Ginger secretly getting off on me being horrible to him. That's what we need more of. Thank you so much for being such a gossiping traitor and telling me," Tim finishes with a grin audible in his voice.

"Fuck you," John says and pushes him. "He told me I could tell you. Cause you know, he can't. Cause you're a motherfucking shark."

"Okay," Tim says and pulls him closer. "Thank you anyway. I'm so making him fucking undone when he comes back."

John laughs.

"Can I watch?" he asks, pressing his face into Tim's shoulder.

"Of course," Tim says and kisses his forehead. "Of course you can."

 

*****

 

John has a morning erection.

John lets Tim drag him on top of him and rides him, blushing, face still sleepy, hair messy, Tim pushing his hips up to meet him, rubbing the tip of his cock with his thumb that he now and then puts into John's mouth to make it wet, demanding to know just how much John likes his cock inside his hole and how much he wants to come riding him. John says that he likes his cock more than anything and that he wants to come right this second, that he wants Tim to fuck him harder and to jerk him off faster and to look at his face when he comes.

Tim is very compelled by his words. Tim does exactly what John asks. Tim fucks into him, throwing his hips up with so much force that John actually jumps on his cock. Tim spits into his own palm and jerks him off just like John wants him. Tim looks at John's beautiful face shattering above him, breaking into something alien and horrible and perfect, John moaning obscenely and clenching around him, and then falling on top of him, shivering and sweaty and soft.

"That's exactly what I was talking about," he whispers into his ear. "That's what I love."

Tim chuckles and flips them both to lie on their sides, moving his hips, fucking John between his thighs, brushing against his asshole, John muttering something about love and anal wrecking, which makes Tim want to laugh and just fuck him forever at the same time, Tim coming in a minute or so, biting hard into his own hand, John's hand on his butt, slapping him, nudging him to move faster.

Tim thinks that after this morning exercise John deserves even more indulgence and makes breakfast, rummaging through John's kitchen looking for salt, while John is obsessing with his looks in the bathroom.

John moans, stuffing his pretty face, while Tim smokes next to the window.

"I fucking love you," he says, his mouth full. "You're the best. We should live together."

Tim laughs.

"You still love your guitars more."

John looks at him thoughtfully and then shrugs.

"Yeah, maybe. And I also love Ginger. So..."

Tim downs his coffee.

"When is he coming back?" John asks.

"In six days, I think. Unless he finds some other members of the fucking clan he needs to bond with."

"Okay. So we meet your fancy friend when?"

"God, you really love licking pussy, do you?" Tim asks, grinning. "I'll give her a call. Probably the weekend after Ginj comes back."

"Alright. Hey, can we go to a club or something this weekend though?"

"Aren't you playing?"

"No, that gig got postponed. And I really wanna dance. And make out with people. With you too. Let's go dance and make out, okay?"

"Now you're going overboard," Tim says. "Spoiled little shit. No, no making out. Not with me. I mean, you can suck my cock in the toilet or something."

John laughs.

"Fuck, you're filthy," he says. "Okay. I'll suck your damn cock. And we'll dance. I'll make out with somebody else."

"Deal," Tim says and messes up John's hair.

 

"By the way," Tim says, getting dressed, while John fiddles with his guitar. "I had an idea. About your double penetration problem."

John throws a sock at him.

"Fuck it," he says, performing a lick that sounds slightly insane. "Ginger's gonna freak out. I'm not trying that again. It's like you said: one cock is enough."

"Oh, it is not," Tim says, smirking and picking his bass guitar off the floor. "Believe me. You can never stop once you get two at the same time."

"Fuck off," John says, giggling.

"My idea actually doesn't involve Ginger suffering."

John snorts.

"Yeah, sure."

"Well, not in the sense you meant. I can make him squirm some other way. Anyway, I just thought that since we found that dildo from outer space again... And I just have to add here, that what you did with it is absolutely disgusting..."

"Look who's talking," John says and throws another sock at him.

"Exactly. Look how disgusting I am. I am still fucking appalled by what you've done. Poor fucking space cock. It'll never be the same. It'll be in therapy for the rest of its life."

John laughs.

"So as I was saying, since we found it, it can be paired quite nicely with the glass one."

"Oh," John says and even stops playing. "That's fucking hot. Wow. Tim. Fuck. I want it."

Tim chuckles.

"I knew you would. Greedy spoiled guitar jerk."

"Stinky shark with a tiny cock. Kiss me."

Tim does.

Of course, Tim does.

 

*****

 

Tim puts out the cigarette and dials.

"Hey, you ready in there? I'll pick you up in fifteen," he says.

"Almost ready," John says, voice excited. "What are you wearing?"

"Clothes," Tim says, turning off the light in the kitchen.

"Are you wearing those boring Ginger pants again?"

"Donno. Maybe. Probably. Why?"

"I want you to wear something cool. Like, military pants. And a fishnet top. Want you to look sexy. Want people to want to fuck you."

"People already want to fuck me," Tim says, chuckling and looking at himself in the mirror. "I have a shit ton of charisma."

"Come on. Wear something sexy. I won't go out with you if you're wearing Ginger's nerdy shirt."

"Fuck, you're a whiny shit," Tim says, putting the phone on speaker and taking off Ginger's nerdy shirt. "You go out with Ginger looking like Ginger."

"That's different," John says. "He's sweet. He's allowed."

"Fuck," Tim says. "Alright. I can go fucking naked, if you want me to."

"No," John says. "Just military pants and a fishnet. And I'll paint your face. We'll fuck up your lipstick. Like that time when you were doing cocaine with Ginger."

"I'll have to suck cock for that," Tim says, going through his wardrobe.

"I don't mind," John says, giggling. "We can also fuck up mine."

"Alright," Tim says, pulling out the pants. "Get ready. I'll be there soon."

 

John paints Tim's lips bright red when they pull over near the club and then pushes two of his fingers into his mouth, smearing saliva around it.

That goes on for quite some time.

"Done," John says and smiles. "Come on."

"You sure we need to get out of the car? I see plenty of opportunities to have fun right here," Tim says, touching his own lips.

John laughs.

"We're dancing," he insists. "Come on. Let's go. And don't take too much dope, okay?"

Tim nods and they go into the club.

They dance for a couple of songs, and John is all over him, hooking his fingers into the fishnet and pulling, Tim hard in his military pants, licking John's neck and provoking him even more by that.  
Tim picks up two young women from France, Blanche and Eva, and John drags Eva to dance with him, while Tim chats with Blanche and drinks beer with her. Eva excuses herself soon after that, so John drags Tim and Blanche to dance with him, and they do it together, Tim getting hard again and Blanche getting wet, John kissing her and licking Tim's neck, until he gets chatted up by another lady, whose name Tim never learns, and goes dancing with her. Tim gets his hands on MDMA and shares it with Blanche while dancing. They go to his car ten minutes later, Tim saying that he knows some other ways to screw with brain chemistry, Blanche messing up his hair while he eats her out after putting some more lipstick on, because they both agree it is hot. They smoke afterwards, Tim with his legs spread wide and her palm over his cock, telling her not to let him come, and then he eats her out again. They go back and get a warm welcome from John and that lady whose name Tim never learns, John palming his cock too while they dance. Then Blanche excuses herself too, kissing John and his new lady goodbye and purring something filthy in French in Tim's ear. Tim spends twenty minutes stiff and dancing alone, while John drags that lady whose name Tim never learns to his car and eats her out, coming back practically beaming. The lady excuses herself after some time and John drags Tim to dance with him again, sucking Tim's fingers into his mouth, fucking up his black lipstick even more. The toilet doesn't seem very erotic to them when they check it out, so they go back to their car at around five in the morning and Tim fucks John's face. Then he jerks him off, while John kisses every part of his body he can reach. They sit in the car after that for maybe forty minutes, Tim smoking and John poking his fingers into the holes in the fishnet, until John says he wants a milkshake. So at around seven they go to McDonalds and John drinks his milkshake, while Tim runs his fingers over his thighs covered in leather.

They go to Tim's and fall asleep without undressing after Tim makes a warm salad that tastes amazing, despite the fact that it contains tofu and was cooked at the end of a sleepless night, John's feathery scarf tickling Tim's nose even when he is already unconscious.

 

*****

 

Tim is in the middle of fiddling with equipment at the studio he's been invited to when he gets a call from John.

"Hey, Tim," John says. "Ginger's back. He's at mine."

Tim excuses himself with a vague gesture and goes to another room.

"That's great to hear," he says.

"Yeah," John says and laughs. "He brought cake. Are you gonna come over?"

"Sure, but not right away. I am helping out some friends. Need to get this done."

"Oh," John says. "Alright. See you later then."

 

Tim gets out of the studio five hours later, everybody kissing his hands and promising to buy him drugs, Tim standing there feeling like a wooden idol: aggrandized, but with very tense shoulders.

"Oh, finally," John says, opening the door.

Tim puts out the cigarette and gets in.

"He passed out," John says, dragging him into the room. "You know how he gets after flying."

Tim nods. Ginger is indeed lying on the couch in there with no pants on, looking beaten, drooling on the fucking pillow.

"You want cake?" John asks, whispering.

"Not really," Tim says. "I want food."

"Cake's food."

"Cake's bullshit."

"Don't be an ass. Come on, sit here, I'll bring you some."

"Whatever," Tim says and lands on the couch next to Ginger.

John disappears in the kitchen.

Tim looks at Ginger and writes _bög_ on his left cheek with his finger. Then he writes _kåt_ on his right one and Ginger shivers.

"Tim?" he says, flipping over entirely ungracefully. "You here?"

"Hey," Tim says, presented with his dumb wrinkled face. "Yeah, I finally escaped from the musical hell."

Ginger touches his hand with his stupid scared fingers.

"Fuck, Tim, I cannot find the knife," John says in a loud whisper entering the room. "Oh, Ginj, you're awake."

Tim chuckles.

"Of course you cannot find the fucking knife," he says, getting up. "Come on, I'll give you my support. Ginger, stop wallowing and follow us."

"Fuck off," Ginger says. "I'm fucking tired."

 

Tim cannot find the fucking knife either, so they just bring the cake back into the room and eat it with their bare fingers, because forks are nowhere to be found too.

Ginger asks Tim what he's been doing today, so Tim tells him about the strings he's been pulling and the knobs he's been turning.

"I need to go there tomorrow too," he says, licking his fingers. "Fuck, there isn't enough cocaine in the world to pay me off for that."

"By the way," Ginger says, rubbing his face. "I asked you to recommend me some songs with good bass lines. My niece started playing last year. I wrote you like three fucking times. Why didn't you answer?"

 _Uh-oh_ , Tim thinks.

John starts giggling, his feet swinging in the air.

"Because Tim doesn't read your letters, Ginj," he says, looking up at Tim. "Because you're in his spam folder."

"Fuck, Tim," Ginger says. "What the hell?"

Tim shrugs.

"I don't want your fucking family pictures or whatever it is you send us," he says, trying to get away from Ginger.

"I don't fucking send you my fucking family pictures," Ginger says, grabbing him with his cake covered hands. "I know you don't give a shit. Fuck, Tim."

There is a bit of physical altercation after that.

With some nice additions.

 

It takes forever to wash the cake off their body parts Tim's surprised they even had, especially because John cannot stop laughing and Ginger keeps jabbing Tim in the stomach.

They go to the bedroom when John deems all of them sufficiently clean, and Ginger cuddles with John, telling him about his trip, while Tim smokes near the window in exile.

Though it is not a long lasting one.

 

Tim wakes up in the morning hearing some wet sounds and muffled moans.

He grins inwardly and just lies there, listening, not opening his eyes.

The stupid moaning bastards kiss and whisper, John's voice with a teasing, flirty quality to it, Ginger's mostly broken, his breathing loud. John asks Ginger what he wants and Ginger says something Tim cannot quite catch, but then John says "of course" and the bed shakes underneath them a bit.

Tim smiles and opens one eye. Ginger is lying next to him, his back turned to Tim, John's hand cupping his cheek, John's messy hair poking behind his hip, both of the bastards moaning, Ginger shivering slightly, his hand on John's head.

Tim watches them for a couple of minutes, until Ginger comes with John's name on his lips, his body going tense and then relaxing into his natural gooey state. Tim closes his eyes again and listens to the shifting and some more kissing.

"Do you want me to suck you off too?" Ginger whispers.

"Nope," John says and giggles. "I want you to eat me out. I want the eavesdropping shark with a tiny stiff cock to suck me off."

Which is exactly what happens.

Because John asked.

 

Tim beats off in front of them five minutes later, John looking at him, lying on his stomach, his feet up in the air, Ginger holding Tim's free hand tight, not letting him do anything, crushing his fingers in his own instead.

He is somewhat late for his studio hell duties, but he figures it's alright, him being the local wooden idol and all.

 

*****

 

Ginger has a morning erection.

Tim doesn't have anywhere else to be.

"Stop whining," Tim says, pulling Ginger's head up and rubbing the underside of his cock. "Look at me. You're getting touched. I am being fucking neglected. Why are you the one who is constantly bitching then?"

"Fuck off," Ginger says, shivering. "Like I don't want to touch you."

"Keep your fucking hands behind your back. We're doing Stiff Tim. We're doing Stiff Tim and his shaking squid jelly breakfast."

He circles the tip of Ginger's cock and Ginger moans.

"We're going to be doing Stiff Tim for a few more times, you know," Tim says, smirking. "We're going to Jules's on Sunday. John wants you to lick her feet."

"Fuck," Ginger gasps out.

"Yeah, gonna be great. He'll eat her out like last time and you'll suck her toes. We're gonna make it all about the lady," Tim says, pulling at his cock slightly. "And I'm gonna be sitting there with John's underwear in my mouth. Because I am not allowed to swear. Not getting any. Exiled into the kitchen to cook for you motherfuckers while you chat and drink wine in the room."

"Fuck, Tim," Ginger says and tries to push into his hand. "I'm gonna fucking come right now."

"Nope," Tim says, releasing his cock. "Later. Like I'll come later. John will eat her out again and you'll suck my cock, okay? I'll come down your gulping throat. Maybe this time she'll even let me fuck your dumb face. What do you think?"

Ginger, it seems, doesn't think anything at the moment.

Tim laughs, touches his lips and then puts his hand on his cock again.

"And then we're gonna be doing Stiff Tim again, but only the three of us. I'm gonna stuff John's greedy hole with dildos. With two dildos," Tim says, feeling his mouth go dry. "Finally start him on the double penetration road, you know."

"Fucking hell, Tim," Ginger says and shudders.

"He asked," Tim says, smirking at him. "He's filthy."

Ginger moans and tries pushing into Tim's hand again.

"Stop it," Tim says and slaps his cock lightly. "Behave."

Ginger gasps and wills himself to stop moving.

"That's better," Tim says, licking his thumb and rubbing it over the tip of Ginger's cock. "Anyway, I'm gonna fuck John with two dildos sitting there on the floor, being rock hard, and you're gonna hold his fucking hand. Look at his broken coming face. Oh, I fucking promise you he'll be coming like crazy. He'll be fucking undone."

Ginger moans and starts shaking.

Tim lets go of his cock and looks at him, chuckling.

"Open your mouth," he instructs, and they spend the next minute or so with Tim touching Ginger's lips and Ginger squirming next to him, hands behind his back, sweaty, miserable and lost in the woods.

"You know, though, when I will be having fun?" Tim asks, pulling his fingers out of Ginger's mouth and smearing saliva over his lips. "Our filthy little guitar jerking idiot told me something else."

"Fuck," Ginger says.

"You're gonna come right now, okay? You're so gonna come just listening to me," Tim says, tasting blood in his mouth and licking his own teeth.

"Fuck, Tim," Ginger says and moans, when Tim spits in his palm and wraps it around his cock.

"You'll ride me, okay? You'll ride me till I come," Tim says, moving his hand slowly. "But you'll come first. You'll come fucking yourself on me while John watches you. You'll come on my cock telling both of us exactly how much you love me talking about your shit, okay? Exactly how much you don't want me to stop. Because I know, alright? I fucking know."

Ginger comes in his fist, crying out, eyes completely black, mouth pulled wide open by Tim's heartless fingers, his other hand gripping Ginger's cock tight, Tim's chest a Bikini Atoll once again, Tim's face a smirking shark snout with sharp teeth.

Tim lets Ginger fall onto the bed after that, slapping himself hard across the face several times and beating off, looking at his shaking squid jelly breakfast half dead and panting next to him.

 

Ginger smokes in the kitchen, hugging his own knee and cursing John and all of his ancestors, while Tim makes them a spicy shakshuka with a cookbook in his hand.

"Come on," Tim says, taking a cigarette away from him and inhaling the smoke. "Stop sulking. You told him yourself."

"Yeah, well, he was fucking touching me," Ginger says, grabbing his wrist. "Give me the damn smoke."

"Good that he was," Tim says, giving the cigarette back to him and cracking the eggs. "Now we have something to occupy the remaining weeks with till that fucking festival that's gonna leave us all in ruins."

"Fuck," Ginger says, taking a drag. "I fucking hate John. I fucking hate you. I fucking hate everybody."

"But you sure do love my shit talk," Tim says, chuckling and messing up his hair.

 

Ginger falls face forward into Tim's shakshuka five minutes later, moaning with his mouth full and telling Tim he loves him for fourteen billion times.

 

*****

 

"Ready?" Tim says, shutting the door of the car after they pull over and get out.

Ginger shakes his head. John chuckles and taps his guitar instead of clapping.

"Okay then," Tim says and starts walking. "Pussy and foot fetishism time."

 

Sadly, John doesn't let Tim put his underwear in his mouth and neither does Jules, so he ends up just standing bent over Jules's chair, whispering things into her ear, telling her how the three of them fucked the first time, both Tim and Jules looking at the somewhat crowded spot in front of her chair, John completely naked, eating her out with pure bliss on his face, Ginger overly dressed and sucking her toes, feverish and shaking, Tim with a miserable sneer, Jules saying Ginger's fucking given name, her breath coming out wet.

He keeps standing next to her once she comes, both of them watching John and Ginger jerk each other off on the floor. John lifts his head from pussy paradise and giggles, seeing the state Ginger's in, and it is quite a state. Then John goes from filthy little shit back to sweetheart and kisses Ginger's pathetic pale face, both of them moaning into each other's mouths and exchanging love confessions, Jules saying they are so sweet, patting Tim's cheek lightly, Tim gritting his teeth.

"Kitchen," Jules tells Tim after the moaning kissing bastards are done, and Tim drags himself there, still hard and aching in his pants.

She enters the kitchen five minutes later too, when John starts molesting his guitar in the other room, taking the wine out of the cupboard and pouring a glass for Tim, helping him drink. Then she unzips his pants and jerks him off, Tim leaning on the table and whining even more pathetically than John does, Jules asking if it is okay that she does it without lube, because that might hurt, Tim saying that it does hurt, that all of it hurts, and coming after a minute with four of his fingers in his mouth.

They have dinner in the room, drinking wine and listening to John's flamenco tunes, Jules saying things both John and Ginger freak out about even though they don't quite get what she is even talking about, Tim swearing in Swedish until Jules realizes what he's doing and calls him _mister Skold_ in such a tone of voice that everybody in the room gets instantly aroused.

They go to the bedroom, Tim expecting more neglect and torture, but no, he gets to sit on the floor in front of Jules and eat her out, John stretching his hole with his magical fingers covered in lube John had on him all along, Ginger kissing Jules and running his palms over her body. Tim comes pressed into her pussy, riding John's accommodating fingers, and stays like that for a while longer, licking at her and making her come too. Then he lies with her on the bed while John and Ginger fuck on the floor, John pushing back to meet Ginger's cock, confused about what part of his delightful personality he's currently showcasing, somehow bright red and trapped and teasing at the same time, asking Ginger to pull his head up for Jules and Tim to see, Ginger having a fucking seizure, making Jules laugh in such a tone of voice that Tim almost gets hard again and thinks of cruel ancient goddesses.

Ginger lifts John up and comes inside him, shaking, John turning his head and kissing him over the shoulder, then coming himself with Ginger's hand wrapped around his cock, Jules whispering to Tim that all of this might be a new form of art that hasn't been previously discovered and Tim is very inclined to agree with her.

They depart after it is midnight already, Jules kissing Ginger and John kissing Ginger too, because he is still shaking like a fucking leaf, Tim saying with a smirk they are going to be working on some personal projects these next two weeks and then they'll have to play the festival, but once they come back they can join forces again and explore this new form of art some more.

 

"Kenny," John says, giggling and hugging Ginger in the back seat while Tim starts the car. "Kenny, I fucking love you."

Ginger groans like a dying magical sea creature he is and Tim snorts.

 

*****

 

"So where do you want your greedy jealous hole demolished? At mine or at yours?" Tim says, leaning on the wall with his broken shoulders, looking at Ginger passed out on the couch, his face in a book.

"Oh, fucking finally," John says on the other end of the line and stops playing.

"Sorry, Brian's been mincing my poor body in a meat grinder all this time," Tim says, sighing and rubbing his face. "You know, getting ready for the festival and stuff. Fucking Brian."

"Okay. I understand. I don't know. At yours probably. You can cook something for me afterwards."

"Thank you for your generosity," Tim says, chuckling softly. "I am so glad I am allowed to cook for you after you get to have the best orgasm of your miserable fucking life."

"Fuck off," John says, giggling. "Okay, I'll come to your place tomorrow. At five. That works?"

"Yeah, that works."

"Love you."

Tim hangs up and sleeps on the floor next to the couch, Ginger's hand touching his face, tender and fucking scared even in his sleep.

 

"Hey, you book worm, get up," Tim says and grabs Ginger's feet, pulling him off the couch. "Let's jerk off."

"Fuck off, you horny shit. John's gonna be here in thrity minutes," Ginger says, throwing the book he's been reading at him.

"Exactly," Tim says, helping him get up. "We need to be very sane and stable to go through all of that. We need to jerk off now. Come on, I'll do you and you'll do me. And we'll slap each other. Trust me, we'll need it. It's all for John."

Ginger snorts and lets himself be pressed into the wall. He lets Tim unzip his pants too. He lets Tim slap him across the face. He lets Tim jerk him off until he comes, looking lost, legs shaking, head pressed into the wall, back arching, his gulping throat presented to Tim. Tim comes a minute later, pressing his mouth over it, straining his hand on his own cock, because Ginger's just too gooey to do anything remotely useful.

They smoke afterwards and drink coffee, managing to collect themselves before John comes a full hour later, looking like he's ready to go on stage, space dildo in his hand.

 

"Fuck, Tim, it hurts," John says, panting, voice breaking. "It's too much."

"Yeah, I told you it was gonna be like that," Tim says, running the fingers of his free hand over John's thigh, sitting there on the floor between John's spread legs. "It is kinda the point of this thing. You get undone and never become the same person again."

John whines, clenching around the glass dildo and Tim's fingers, Tim glancing at the space cock that looks somewhat bigger than he remembered, Ginger holding John's head in his tender loving tentacles and whispering stupid things to him.

"Fuck, Tim," John says again. "I don't know if I can do it."

"You can," Tim says, touching his own teeth with his tongue. "We're here for you, okay?"

"Fuck," John says and whines some more.

 

"Alright," Tim says after a few more minutes. "Ginger, I need you to be as sweet as you possibly can. Make me cringe, you know. John, brace yourself. But don't fucking clench, okay? The space cock's getting in."

Then John says "fuck" and Ginger says "fuck" and John says "hold my fucking hand" and Ginger says "of course" and Tim pushes the dildo from outer space into John's hole along the glass one.

John makes a sound that should definitely tear their universe apart.

Tim chuckles.

"Well, congratulations, John," he says and starts moving his slippery hand, fucking John with both of the damn dildos. "Now twenty seconds of anal torture and you'll come like never before."

John curses him and all of his ancestry, whining, his legs shaking, back arching, Ginger holding him and swearing, chanting his "fucks" like a Buddhist monk, but a really wicked and sinful one, Tim gritting his teeth, trying to contain the chain reaction in his chest and failing spectacularly at that.

It lasts a bit longer than twenty seconds.

It is glorious.

 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," John stutters in a voice Tim hasn't heard before, but would definitely like to hear again. "Ginj, I'm gonna come. Fuck, Ginj."

"John," Ginger says in a voice Tim has heard multiple times and yet can never hear enough of.

"John", Ginger says, lets go of John's head, rolls over and takes John's cock into his mouth, choking on it.

"Oh my fucking God," Tim says, unable to stop himself. "You sick motherfuckers."

John comes into Ginger's mouth, crying out and clenching so hard Tim has to actually strain his hand keeping the fucking pair of dildos inside him, Ginger moaning, his hand with white knuckles gripping the sheets, Tim flying into the outer fucking space powered by death and destruction that is happening in his chest that very second.

 

"How come neither of you came in your pants?" John asks, chewing the chocolate chip cookies Ginger is feeding him.

Tim puffs out the smoke and chuckles.

"We had a bit of a head start," he says, looking at Ginger's guilty face. "Some nice shaking squid goo slapping before you arrived, you know."

"Fuck," John says, trying to sit up and wincing. "That's not fair."

"Lie the fuck down," Tim says, and Ginger pulls John back onto the bed. "Don't worry. We'll suffer eventually. Now that we've achieved this remarkable result you're gonna be riding both our aching kernels in no time."

Ginger groans and John giggles. Tim puts the cigarette out and lies down on the bed next to them.

"And when that gets old we can impale Ginger's tight scared shithole on ours, John," he says, an enormous grin full of teeth on his shark snout.

Pathetic seizure ensues.

 

*****

 

"Alright, you miserable squid," Tim says, gripping Ginger's shaking shoulder. "The fucking festival starts tomorrow, so these are just preliminary tests we're conducting here."

"Fuck, Tim," Ginger says, voice breaking. "I can't."

"Of course you can," Tim says and pushes him down onto his cock. "With John's famous fucking support and giggling. With me being a nuclear fucking asshole you love so much."

Ginger moans and shakes, his hole pulsing around Tim's cock.

"Ginj, come on," John says, whiny and teasing and cruel and sweet at the same time. "Tell us. I wanna hear you say it."

"Fuck, John," Ginger says, flapping on Tim's cock.

Tim laughs and licks his neck.

"Come on, squid," he says. "Spill it out. John wants to hear it. And more importantly, I fucking tell you to."

"Fuck, Tim," Ginger says and shudders.

"Don't try my fucking patience," Tim says. "I have none. I am a bloodthirsty motherfucking shark."

"Fuck," Ginger says, stumbling on his cock and moaning. "I want you to talk about my shit. Fuck. Oh fuck. I want you to tell me my hole is full of it. I uh... I want you to make me come like that."

John giggles and takes Ginger's cock in his mouth.

"Okay," Tim says, putting his arms around Ginger's shaking body. "You're so gonna come fucking your filth on my cock right now. You have my full support in that, you pathetic kinky squid goo."

\----------------------------


End file.
